Believe it or not, one of the best things that painful memories are terribly frightened of is publicity, in the best sense of the word. The more a memory is shared, the less effective it becomes, and slowly it may even have a natural death. You may find it hard to believe, but I have seen that the more I began to safeguard certain secret painful memories, they only began to exert more power and control over me, until one day when I had to surrender myself to their dominion. But the very moment, when I started to share these memories with certain people, the memories slowly faded away, until one day when I was fully freed from their control. However, the process of getting out of the seeming insecurity by releasing the painful memories for public consumption may make us nervous and ever uneasy, but the joy of care-fronting them can make a lot of difference in the way we handle such memories.
Anyone who has gone through some bitter memories in the past is sure to agree with me that we all wish to treasure these memories, and would seldom like to indulge in sharing about them with a close friend or associate. According to the seriousness and severity of the memories, our efforts to safeguard them from public knowledge will differ. We may not like to share with even the best of friends and associates those events in the past that involved tremendous amount of shame and humiliation. We cannot disclose certain aspects of our lives to anyone on earth. In fact these memories add a lot of burden to our already heavily-laden psychological luggage. We also feel that we cannot throw some of this baggage, even when we know we can live a peaceful, joyful life without carrying this unnecessary baggage. Some of us are happy to carry these needless burdens until we reach our graves, and a few of us even carry them to the coffins. Maybe today we can make a little effort to get rid of these painful memories, because we cannot be happy without being divorced from them.
Three things happen when we disclose a highly guarded secret painful memory to a trustworthy friend or senior person: one, the memory loses its hold on us, two, we give just the worth the memories deserve, and are in a sense begin to free ourselves from their control, and three, we realize that we can jolly well be happy without carrying them on our hearts. But you may wonder, to whom could I go and confide about these memories, the very thought of which brings a shiver in me, and I dread thinking, leave alone sharing, about them. If I am frightened of talking about it to someone, then at least let me give hints to the other / others that I had an event in the past that had shaken up my life. And if I find a suitable moment has come for me to “throw” out the bitter memories, then it would do me good, if I am able to do that.
Here the focus is not the other person; in fact the other person has no serious role to play, but to act as the sound board; he/she may or may not say anything to me after I narrate the event in great detail. But the focus here is myself; even if the other person is partly deaf and blind, it does not matter, so long he/she is able to respond to me adequately well. At the end of narrating the memories, I may find myself sweating… (depending on the gravity of the memory), and that is one of the natural ways how the earth ejects the unwanted elements, not merely the sweat, but also the memories. The other person need not give you a long lecture on what you should have done or what others should have done; that is not the intention of this chitchat. They may something or not; what is important is I am able to pour myself out to the other person, and that may lighten up my heart.
So, here is my assignment for the day: first let me bring before my eyes the one or two most painful memories that keep haunting me night and day, and think of one or two persons, who truly love and care for me, and with whom I can stand stark naked, without a bit of shame or fear. These people are the kind who would accept me as I am, unconditionally. Whether it is a male or female, young or old, I need not worry; ultimately what they will say in return to my open-heart sharing is not as important as how I am able to clear the bin. The stench may be unbearable for me, but I know that the other person who is listening to me is entering into my memory to clean my heart and make me whole again. Once I have shared my painful memories for the first time, let me experience the burden light and an ease in my heart, which I had not experienced in the past few years, ever since the event took place. But let me also remind myself that this is not the end of my disclosure of the events; I may come across a few more people with whom I may be able to open up myself, and openly and frankly pour out myself. After a few times of sharing about them, I am sure to realize that it is within my power and authority to live with them or to bid adieu forever.
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